A Good Distraction
by thatmcrmykid
Summary: "The only rule is they don't use human names...That would cause feelings, and neither of them want that." Just a little drabble set some time after the American Revolution. One-shot.


**A Good Distraction**

**Rating:** T (but barely, really)

**Pairing:** England/Canada, mentioned Franada & USUK

**Summary:** "The only rule is they don't use human names. That would cause feelings, and neither of them want that."

**Category:** Romance

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia. Never will and never have. Nor do I really want to. ^_^

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><p>They both know it's wrong. They're using each other, and they both know it. They've even talked about it before. England uses Canada because he looks so much like the one who left him. Canada uses England simply because he aches to feel the strength of an older nation holding him, the calluses on his hands so much like the one who he was taken from, who he's always loved.<p>

So they meet. Multiple times a month, sometimes multiple times a week. Whenever it gets to be too much, England will come to Canada's house, or Canada will go to England's. It's not very suspicious; Canada is still England's colony, it's not so unusual for colonies & mother countries to meet frequently.

These meetings begin as hurried, desperate, needy couplings, each driven by their own unrequited loves. Heat and sweat and moans half-covered in embarrassment in whatever room happens to be available at the time, both silently praying no one will walk in because neither can remember if they've locked the door properly. A few months, maybe a year, into these meetings, they start planning better. A bed is needed, and plenty of privacy, since the embarrassment from the beginning doesn't exist anymore, and neither even bother to silence themselves anymore.

They don't feel anything, hardly, except for the pleasure, and maybe a little bit of loneliness afterwards which slowly causes them to begin to linger afterwards for hours. The only rule is they don't use human names. No, of course not. That would cause feelings, and neither of them want that. They both want this to be an entirely selfish thing.

They hardly talk of anything of importance when they linger. They talk of anyone and everyone except themselves and the ones they cannot have. Anything and everything not related to their miserable loves.

"You're like both of them, really." England says suddenly one night, and Canada immediately knows who he is referencing and he already doesn't like where the conversation is going, but he asks anyway,

"What do you mean?"

England looks surprised for a moment, as if he wasn't expecting that response. "You look like A-America. But you really act more like France."

Canada felt a slight twinge, like he always did, when England said _his_ name, and he knew that England felt the same thing when he said America's name. He didn't respond for a moment, and just lay there, watching England. Then he asked,

"Why did you take me from him?"

England sighed.

"You know there wasn't really a reason. It was simply because you were his."

Canada nodded. He knew this. He wasn't sure why he even asked.

"I hate you for that." Canada told England, who nodded in agreement.

"I suppose he hates me for it too."

"Who knows. Maybe. But..." Canada's voice trailed off for a moment, as he thought of how to phrase what he was going to say. "I don't mind it so much now. It's not as bad as it once was."

England looked at Canada for a moment. Then he leaned over and kissed him. When he pulled away he said, "Then we feel the same way, Matthew."

They both notice the slip of Canada's human name. England has broken the one and only rule for their meetings. A small blush vaguely appears below the older nation's eyes. And unbidden, the slight tremble of excitement that always comes from another nation using another's human name resonates through the younger one.

Canada wants to look away from England's gaze. He wants to, he needs to. Something wrong will happen if he doesn't. But he can't exactly remember what that wrong thing is, and he can't tear his eyes away from the older nation's terribly green eyes. So he kisses him back. Kissing Arthur is always a good distraction.


End file.
